


Pieces Of Broken Memories

by callmechristinae



Category: Ironside (2013 Series)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-11 22:06:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmechristinae/pseuds/callmechristinae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being kidnapped by mobsters, Teddy finds himself being overwhelmed by professional and personal revelations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "This Is Gospel" by Panic! At The Disco
> 
>  
> 
> _This is gospel for the fallen ones_  
>  Locked away in permanent slumber  
> Assembling their philosophies  
> From pieces of broken memories

Teddy couldn't feel his legs.

No. He took that back. He could feel them now. But he wished he couldn't. The numbness was intense enough to have become painful. The electrical sparks of his nerves firing felt like shockwaves in the cramping muscles. His skin felt like it was crawling and he could even move enough to futilely scratch at his calf with one of his dangling feet.

He was cold and soaking wet. His jeans were clinging to his skin in all the wrong places, and his button down shirt was dripping with extra weight he didn't need right now. He had toed off his shoes and socks at some point after he had been left alone, but as his feet scrabbled and occasionally brushed against the concrete floor he found himself questioning the logic of that choice.

If he could just get some leverage he was sure he could slip out of the handcuffs tying him to the ceiling. His father had gotten him a fancy magic kit when he was little. He would spend hours by himself learning the ins and outs of every trick. His parents never seemed pleased by how well he could make things disappear or when he showed guests how quickly he could escape a solid pair of handcuffs. His mother had blushed a bright red and shooed him off when he told their guests where he had found those particular handcuffs.

He couldn't reach the ground to get enough of a solid footing. The trembling from the cold had stopped. He had read enough safety guides at the Academy to know this was not a good thing.

The realization that his hands had also gone numb was more of a surprise than it should have been. He was grateful for the loss of feeling as he remembered accented voices asking him questions and cruel calloused hands snapping bone. He couldn't even remember what they had wanted to know. He couldn't remember much of what had happened after he left his apartment that morning for work. He actually wasn't even sure that it had been that morning. For all he knew he could have been in this room for days. One's internal clock tends to get muddled without access to sunlight.

Ironside would be mad that he hadn't shown up for work. He was pretty sure he was already in the doghouse.

He was so hungry. He would give almost anything for that leftover ziti in his fridge from dinner last night with Holly. It had to have been last night. If more than a day had passed he would be in that odd limbo between hunger and starvation where no food more flavorful than chicken noodle soup sounded appetizing. His old nanny's chicken noodle soup would be amazing right about now.

It would be just his luck if those scratching noises he heard in the hallway were rats coming to munch on his toes.

The door opened and the light blinded him completely. He doubted the light was even that bright, considering the sketchy nature of his surroundings, but even the faintest light was blinding after time spent in absolute darkness.

"Mr. Phipps, have you reconsidered our proposal?"

He spat in the man's face, earning himself a sharp smack from the back of the man's hand. A bucket of ice cold water hit his face and upper body like a thousand tiny knives. It knocked the breath out of him. His body couldn't even gather enough strength to curl in on itself in pain. He tried not to make a noise, but he couldn't hold in the slightly unhinged laughter from bubbling out of his throat.

"Is that the best you've got? I'm a Giants fan. I go through worse watching Eli try to throw the ball each week."

The next bucket of water was less of a shock, but he still hissed in pain. The room plunged into darkness once more when his captors exited to the hallway and slammed the door behind them.

As they argued in the hallway he could feel his hands begin to slip against the metal wrapped around them. He tugged as hard as he could, biting hard into his lower lip as the broken bones were compressed together by the maneuvering. He didn't let himself think about how he was being aided in his escape by the torturous ice cold water and his own blood. The angry voices had faded down the hallway by the time he slipped the handcuffs completely and collapsed onto the floor.

He crawled to the doorway as quickly as he could. Hopefully strength would return to his legs quickly so he could make a run for it before the mobsters came back for another shot at him.

Memory was coming back to him now that he wasn't focused solely on detaching himself from the ceiling. A few Albanian mobsters had shoved him into a car when he had stopped to help someone he had thought was a confused tourist. They seemed adamant that there was something important to them in one of the NYPD's evidence lockers. They seemed to have a man on the inside, but they still needed a passcode from someone cleared to enter the locker after hours. Someone like Teddy.

After he gave them a few fake passwords to have them spell crude phrases for his own amusement, they realized bribing him with part of their potential take wouldn't work. They clearly hadn't done any research into his financials.

Next they tried threats. Contrary to popular belief at the moment, he was perfectly capable of standing up for himself. He knew his name was Teddy and he had had a relatively calm upbringing, but he was still a member of the NYPD. It was more difficult to remain tough when they started following through on threats. They'd broken several of the fingers on his left hand. The most painful thing at the moment though was the carvings in his back they had made after hanging him from the ceiling.

He pulled himself to his feet by pulling himself up on the doorknob with his slightly more intact right hand. The skin on his back stretched painfully, but he pushed through it. He thought for a moment about searching for his shoes. The distant voices growing louder made the decision for him.

Staggering into the hallway, he shaded his eyes against the light. He felt along the wall with his right hand. If he could just follow the faint rumbling of traffic he could find his way to help. Sharp edges bit into his feet. Maybe he should have stopped to find his shoes.

Frantic yelling echoed from some distance behind him. They had probably discovered his empty room.

Moving grew harder as he felt blood drip down his back. He accidentally jammed his injured hand into the wall as he strove to move faster. The adrenaline kept him going as the pain in the soles of his feet grew more pronounced. The voices were gaining on him. He had to hurry.

The air was getting fresher. As fresh as it ever got in New York. The horns were so loud they seemed to be inside with him. He was almost there. He could make out the faint outline of a door with sunlight streaming out from behind it.

Which is of course when a heavy weight hit him from behind. He let out a yell of pain as he caught his full body weight on his hands. But he swung behind him with his elbow as hard as he could. This wasn't the kind of fighting he had learned in training. This was the underhanded kind of brawling you learned when the other kids at private school decided you weren't good enough to be one of them just because you used a Spiderman lunch box instead of a Batman one. You fought to survive against bigger bullies just until you hit your growth spurt.

The man on top of him was hollering angrily. He shouted louder with words Teddy couldn't understand after his elbow made contact with a cheekbone. A split second of distraction was all he needed to get the upper hand.p

He was finally able to break free when his assailant made the mistake of turning him onto his back. He was able to get enough leverage to swing a solid punch with his right hand. The other man fell to the side, knocking his head against the wall with a thump before slumping to the ground. In different circumstances he would pause to check on the unconscious thug. Now he just forced himself to his feet and moved onward. The silence behind him was worrisome. He knew better than to trust it meant his other captors weren't close behind.

While he had thought the dim hall's florescent lights were blinding, the sun when he stumbled out into the alley has definitely searing into his brain. Tires squealed to his right.

"Watch where you're going jackass!" the biker yelled. Teddy tried to reach out to him, but the kid was gone before he could even get a word out.

Muffled voices were suddenly emanating from inside the building. The torture had lasted long enough that he knew the exact men those voices belonged to. So he ran.

He ran blindly, headlong into the busy New York crowd. Despite how disheveled he must look, he blended into the crowd enough to lose the Albanian mobsters on his tail. He blended in well enough that he even lost himself.


	2. Chapter 2

"I don't have time to deal with this IT crap. And where the hell is Teddy?" Robert Ironside appeared almost magically at Virgil's shoulder in the main bullpen.

"What IT crap?"

"That we have to reset our passwords because somebody entered the wrong one too many times. And don't think I didn't notice you ignoring the other question."

Teddy's desk sat empty in front of his. He had talked briefly to Teddy while the other man had been walking home from dinner at Holly's. It had nearly killed Virgil having to ask for help with his 3rd grader's homework. The kid had to interview someone about their education and career, and apparently dad's backstory wasn't interesting enough.

When he'd gotten the phone back he had listened to thirty seconds of laughter and hung up.

"No clue Sarge."

Ironside muttered something under his breath that Virgil couldn't hear, but it made Holly smile from the other side of the room.

"We haven't caught a case yet, so I suggest you spend that time being productive. And tell Teddy to come to my office when he finally decides to grace us with his presence."

"Yes sir."

From his desk, Virgil could see Captain Ed Rollins leaving the building out front. That probably explained Ironside's poor mood that morning.

Lately things had seemed tense between Teddy and their commanding officer, all starting when Virgil had blocked that football player from showing off his Pro Bowl tackling skills in their interrogation room. Virgil hadn't meant to say that Teddy couldn't handle himself, or that he wasn't pulling his weight. But that was how Ironside had interpreted it. Combining that with Ironside's own inexperience leading a team had lead to the early call to move in on the robbery in progress at the poker game, despite the fact Teddy hadn't given the signal.

When Virgil had seen Teddy filling out the transfer request that night, he reacted without thinking. They hadn't been particularly close, but the leap from work partners to friends proved to be an easy one. The roots of a strong friendship had always been hidden in their banter and camaraderie. It just took that one leap to spending time together without their badges on full display to solidify it.

Like any good friend would do, Virgil sent Teddy a quick text saying Ironside was pissed and he should hustle his ass into work pronto. The response of "who dis?" left Virgil wondering if Teddy had gone to bed with a bottle of Jack Daniels. When he saw Ironside leave his office and head towards the elevator he grabbed his desk phone and dialed Teddy's number.

"Yo, stop bothering me man. I got business right now."

It definitely wasn't Teddy who answered. "Who is this?"

"Why you asking me? You're the one who called!"

"I called my partner's cell phone. Why are you the one answering?" Virgil was getting a headache. If this was another one of Teddy's old investment banker buddies playing a prank he was going to punch someone. Preferably Teddy. It was too early to deal with this.

"Tell your partner not to be leaving their phone around on the sidewalk then. Finders keepers!"

"That's not the way it works," Virgil explained. Holly was clearly eavesdropping now. "You see, this is his work phone. Which means it is provided to us by the people we work for. The NYPD. You might have heard of us."

There was the sudden silence of the phone call being ended that Virgil had been expecting.

"Everything ok?" Holly asked.

"Not sure yet. I'm going to check on Teddy. Cover for me."

"Can I make up why you're gone?" The glint in her eye made him glad she was usually working on his side.

"Sure. Just nothing that will get me fired."

She actually rubbed her hands together and giggled. Virgil had never known anyone who did that in real life. Before he could think better of it, he quietly slipped into the stairwell.


	3. Chapter 3

His feet just couldn't support him anymore. And he was so cold. He had curled in on himself on a park bench just to catch his breath, but judging by the ebb and flow of foot traffic that had been several hours ago. It hurt to move. He couldn't think straight.

He flinched when a hand gently touched his shoulder. He moaned when the movement tore at his already aching back.

"Are you alright son?"

The man was an older gentleman with an apron on declaring the best Halal cart in town. Teddy couldn't see the truck, but he could smell the warm grease that seemed to accompany a food truck of any type.

"I don't know," he answered honestly.

The man frowned before joining Teddy on the bench. "My son is usually around here. I walk through every day to make sure he's alright. His mother keeps trying to keep him at home. But he hasn't been the same since he got back from Afghanistan. He always ends up out here again. How did you end up out here?"

Just shaking his head caused him pain. "I don't live here."

"My son says the same thing."

The man was obviously trying to help, but Teddy was having a hard time just getting words out beyond his chattering teeth. He clenched his fists as he grew increasingly frustrated with current lack of communication skills.

"I live on Madison Avenue."

Warily taking in Teddy's appearance, it was clear the man was questioning how to proceed. "I hate to be rude, but you don't really look the type."

Teddy laughed. But his laugh soon turned into a hacking wheeze that left him gasping for air. Vertigo overwhelmed him. He allowed himself to be guided along by the hand lightly gripping his elbow. He just needed to rest a minute.  
***  
Virgil was always struck by how differently Teddy lived than all his other friends on the force. The first difference was the house was a house. An actual house. Not a studio or the cramped rental Virgil's family was quickly outgrowing. They could afford a good house or a good neighborhood, but not both. 

The entire place was lit up with the sun streaming through oversized windows. The furniture was obviously high quality and well cared for rather than shambled together from random pieces at IKEA. The assorted pictures and knick knacks gave it a lived in feel.

He fought the urge to knock a few well placed books off their shelves.

"Teddy?" a woman's voice called out from the open door. "Oh, you must be Virgil."

"I am. And you are?" Virgil noticed the woman's crutches, but he kept his hand loose near his firearm. She reminded him of his mother. Then again, he had been jumped by more innocent looking people in the past. During his first week out of the Academy he had nearly had his eyes gouged out by an angry 14 year old girl he'd busted for pot.

"Charlotte. I live down the hall. Is everything ok?"

"I'm not sure. He didn't come into work this morning so I came to check on him. Have you seen him?"

"Oh my! I hope he's alright. He's been walking my daughter down to her carpool every morning since I broke my ankle. He seemed fine this morning."

The apartment looked as neat as it always did. There hadn't been any reason to think he'd been poisoned by an former business associate, or that violent thugs had broken in and kidnapped him. But there was still something very wrong about the entire situation.

"Did he say anything to you? Maybe mention what he was going to do today?"

"No. Wait a minute. He did say he was going to try to pick up some bagels on the way to work."

"And this was around?"

"Seven I think?"

"Thank you ma'am." Virgil felt uncomfortable with how easily he slid into investigating his friend. He let Charlotte pass in front of him into the hallway before locking the door behind him with Teddy's spare key. He had almost turned to leave when his mind turned over the conversation again.

"Charlotte?"

"Yes dear."

"How did you know I was Virgil?"

"The badge. I was hoping if there was an officer in Teddy's apartment he was there as a friend and not because he was in trouble."

Before he could ask further, she disappeared into her apartment with a smile and a wink.

Unfortunately, it was appearing more and more likely that Teddy was in trouble.

He pulled out his phone a dialed one of the first numbers on his Favorites list.

"Sir. I think there might be a problem with Teddy."


End file.
